


Rejoice, God's Ears Are Stitches

by Skeletorific



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Resurrection (I'm a thot), Circa 2013-2015 teenage drama, Drama, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not that person and neither is Tai, No Cheating I Swear, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 05:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18491896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeletorific/pseuds/Skeletorific
Summary: Everything lost in an exhale. Alternatively, the gang loses everything and has to fight to get it back. Or, I'm a baby who loves Astrid and Arnbjorn. All are possible titles. Canon divergent in a lot of ways but for the most part it follows the Death Incarnate plot.This is an old work, a remnant of my 14-16 year old self who loved the dark brotherhood and wrote this in a creative fugue that lasted years. I keep meaning to go back and finish it. Maybe this will give me the motivation to do so. The author's notes will be used as commentary on things that my 14 year old self never bothered to explain, but that I couldn't find a way to naturally edit in.





	1. His Arms are Burning Witches

**Author's Note:**

> Oof, the angst. Relish in my 14 year old self's hysteria. I still feel this, in a more diluted and jaded adult form, perhaps, but I feel it.

Penitus Oculatus Agents seemed to be everywhere. Taiya picked off a few with some firebolts, but she couldn’t afford to stick around. If what Maro said was true….gods, she couldn’t even think about it.

Shadowmere was just outside the Solitude gates, Marcurio waiting beside him. “What’s going on?” He said. “Did you get it done? I heard-“

“No time! Let’s go!” she shouted, lunging onto Shadowmere’s back. Digging her heels into his sides, she urged him into a gallop. Pulling Marcurio up beside her, she dug her heels into Shadowmere’s sides, pushing them forward.

“What the hell is going on?”

“It was a set-up! Somebody sold us out, the Brotherhood's under attack!”

  
“What?!”

She couldn’t answer. The realization of what might happen was welling up very quickly inside of her. Gabriella, Festus, Veezara…Arnbjorn….everyone…..not even sure if he cared about this sort of thing, she sent up a prayer to Sithis.

It was a days journey to Falkreath, but Shadowmere was no ordinary horse, and Taiya rode like she’d never written before. It took mere hours.

But the sudden smell of smoke entered her nostrils, and even as she pulled up, she knew she had been too late.

The Sanctuary was burning.

A few agents stood outside, torches in hand. Some of their weapons were already drawn, but Taiya and Marcurio had the element of surprise on their side. Magic blazed under the night sky as they burnt, froze, shocked, and decimated anything that charged them.

Marcurio was finishing off the last one when he looked up and suddenly said, in a strangled voice “o Divines….”

“What?” She went to where he was, and he tried to push her back, but it was too late. She had already seen it.

Festus’ corpse, pinned to the tree with more arrows than she had time to count. His hands were held up in front of his face. The old mage had been afraid, had tried to defend himself. But it had done him no good. His blood streamed everywhere, like water from a fountain, puddling on the ground.  
It was then that she started screaming.

Tears poured down her face and a long, strange, animal sound poured out of her. It was like everything faded but the corpse in front of her, her world focused down to a single, bloody point.

“Hey, hey!” Marcurio shook her. “You have to get in there!”

She kept screaming, not even taking in anything anymore.

“Taiya, I can’t go in, you have to get in there, you have to save them!”

...That did it. The thought of the others up against a surprise attack snapped her back to reality.

“St-....Stand guard.” She said shakily. “I don’t want any reinforcements sneaking up on us.”

 

“Got it.” Marcurio said, face filled with grim determination. With a final look at the wreck of what had been her most respected teacher in the arcane, she wiped away the tears and threw open the door.

Inside all was confusion, fear, and smoke. Smoke, smoke, smoke, clogging her nostril, turning the air acrid, choking her, blinding her. She killed two agents in the entrance hall and darted past Astrid’s room, which was mostly in flames by now. She made her way into the main hall.

And was greeted by a scene from a horror story.

She couldn’t get a clear sight on anything. Fire blocked her path. Shadowy figures hauling torches and swords darted back and forth. She thought she saw Veezara, and was about to go check when she saw Arnbjorn.

He was in full werewolf form, as Taiya had never seen him. With a monstrous roar, he was swiping aside agents like they were flies. But there was one, sneaking up on him with his sword. Arnbjorn didn’t see him; he was going to be skewered-

“No!” she screamed. With a quick shock spell she knocked the agent to the ground, and she dashed in to finish the work with her knife, taking a grotesque pleasure in watching him die a little with each fresh stab.

Arnbjorn whirled on her, paw raised. “It’s me!” she said, praying that Arnbjorn would recognize her still. Given what she had heard about werewolves being as much an enemy to friends as foes, she didn’t have much hope. Especially considering Arnbjorn half-saw her as a foe even in human form.

But suddenly he lowered his arm. There was something in his glowing eyes. Recognition? Relief? Maybe. In any case, he wasn’t attacking her.

The agents were another story. A fresh wave was charging them. Drawing her bow, she picked off as many as she could, letting Arnbjorn handle any that got too close. A strange sort of hope began to flicker inside of her. Maybe we can make it. They have to run out of men pretty soon. We can find the others, and then….Then what? She wasn’t sure. Kill, protect, and escape. This was what she had to focus on, or she’d be taken out. 

  
Footsteps behind her. She whipped around, and sent an arrow into the throat of an oncoming soldier. Then she heard it, a loud growl and then a strange gurgling sound. She heard Arnbjorn dropping to his knees behind her.

She turned, bow drawn, but… “No!” she screamed. “NO! NO! NONONONONONO!”

Arnbjorn was on the ground. Over him stood an agent, fresh blood on his sword and a triumphant grin on his face. Catching sight of her, he raised his sword in the air, a war cry on his lips-

Taiya sent an arrow into his throat before he could move.

Shoving aside his corpse, Taiya turned over Arnbjorn. “I-it’s okay.” She said. “It’s okay; I’ll...I'll take care of this.” No response. Was he-no, not allowed, not possible.

The wound was deep. Fatal deep. Don’t be stupid, she told herself. He’s had worse, he’s made it before, remember Cicero?

But he wasn’t moving, and the blood was seeping quickly out of his abdomen, clotting in the thick dark hair. A little bit gurgled out of his snout. “Arnbjorn? Arnbjorn, come on. Please.” Nothing. “Please. Please. Come on, get up, make me furious with you. Be an idiot. Go running after Astrid. Don’t be-“she choked on the last word. The tears were streaming down her face now, and she couldn’t help herself; she buried her face into his chest and sobbed. Her thoughts were confused, unsteady.

  
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I love you. Come on, don’t be dead. I love you. Did you know that? I love you. I never told you before. We only ever fought. And you have Astrid. But I love you. I was going to tell you. I can’t now. Arnbjorn, I need to tell you.

But that’s when it stopped. All thoughts. For the first time in her life, Taiya’s mind went silent. Her heart shut itself up. It was gagged by something far stronger.  
Hate.

Getting up, she conjured her Bound Sword. It would be better, smarter to summon Lucien. That’s what she should’ve done in the first place. But she didn’t care anymore. She wanted to do the killing herself. She wanted to taste it, the blood spattering on her face, feel the swing of the sword and the soft schtick sound of a blade going through a body. She wanted to be up close and personal when the look of terror, of defeat, of agony crossed the faces of her victims.

She wanted to feel the life pass out of each and every Penitus Oculatus Agent.

She fought her way through the Sanctuary, slaughtering everyone she met. She passed Gabriella’s corpse as she went up, but she was beyond caring at this point. All she felt was pain, and all she relished was making sure they felt it too.

In the dining hall, she caught sight of Nazir, struggling with a soldier. She went to his aid. _Is there somebody in this that I can actually save_?

“I was beginning to wonder when you would join the party.” He said through pants for air. “What happened?”

“Somebody sold us out.”

“That much is obvious. Before you ask, no, it isn’t me, nor do I think that it’s you.” He paused. “Well, if I did, that thought disappeared when you came back.”

The roof started to give a bit. “We need to get out of here!” she said.

“I’m not going to argue. Come on, this way!” he said, charging up the staircase.

Burning, burning, burning. Was there any room their torches had not kissed? And all the time, soldier after soldier poured upon them. Were the fools really in that much of a hurry to die?

And all the time, the reality of the death of all she loved came crashing down on her. Arnbjorn. Arnbjorn. His name echoed through her mind, interspersed occasionally with Festus, Gabriella, Veezara, even Lis. She didn’t even know where Babette or Astrid were. She had to assume they were dead. Tears streamed down her face, and she was almost grateful for the literal smokescreen hiding her weakness from her enemies.

Then they passed the room with the Night Mother’s coffin, and a familiar voice slithered into her ear. “ _Embrace me_.”

“Come on, Listener!” Nazir called. “This way!”

_I want to follow him, I want to follow him, go away, leave me alone._

“ _Embrace me_.”

Her body obeyed, despite the protests of her mind. She found herself in the coffin with the corpse, the heavy door swinging shut behind her.  
“Sleep.” She said.

“No!” Taiya screamed, anger and pain pouring out of her like a waterfall. “No! It’s your fault! They died, and it’s your fault! I hate you!”

Something inside her broke. She couldn’t feel anger anymore. It was all used up. She broke, and dissolved into weak, pitiful sobs. “They’re all dead. I hate you.”

“Sleep.” The Night Mother said, chuckling horribly.

And this time, she really did. And she dreamed of Arnbjorn, in a time before the fire….


	2. Holy Fuck! You're Bleeding There!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taiya Alvarynn, resident Disaster Child, meets a feral himbo in the wilds. Not Clickbait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, important to note: not a cheating fic, I'm not that person and never was. I was just a stupid baby in love.
> 
> Also I know quote fics are very much a product of the time I originally wrote this in but I really do like the quote I ended up using for this chapter so I'm including it here and really hoping I didn't take it from somewhere bad.
> 
> "It was foolish to think some things were beyond happening, even being attracted to [him]. I’d honestly thought such a thing couldn’t happen, the way water could not run uphill or salt could not taste sweet. A law of nature. Maybe it was a simple matter of being attracted to what I couldn’t have. Or maybe desire kicked in when it pleased without noticing the rules we lived and died by."  
> -Sue Monk Kidd

**Two months ago:**

           Dawnstar was a decent enough place. A bit too snowy for her taste, and the scenery wasn’t a patch on Falkreath’s beautiful woods, but decent.

           Well, there was one other detractor: each and every town guard wanted to arrest her. She had already done a contract here, a mine owner. Taiya still remembered the place where she had killed her. They had already removed the body, of course. But she could still pick out the little corner.

           In any case, she had been stupid. Well, more like distracted. She had heard there was a fantastic alchemy shop in town, and to be honest, she had been more focused on shopping after the job than on the kill. So in a careless move, she hadn’t covered the victim’s mouth to stifle the screams. The screams that had drawn every person within a three mile radius. And all of them had seen her there, standing with a bloody knife.

She had gotten out by the skin of her teeth alone.

           Now Dawnstar was not exactly the most inviting of holds to her. All the guards had been given her description and told to arrest and/or kill on sight. As a general rule, she preferred to avoid people told to arrest and/or kill her on sight.

           It wasn’t like she had much choice, though. Cicero needed to pay for his crimes, and Arnbjorn needed to be found to restore Astrid’s peace of mind. Honestly, Taiya didn’t feel right with him gone either. Annoying as he was, he was Family. He deserved rescue and treatment just as much as Veezara.

           She still couldn’t believe what the jester had done. Granted, she had known he was volatile, maybe even dangerous. But she’d never thought he would just snap like that. And if he had, she had expected it to be directed at her. He was obviously jealous, though she wasn’t sure why. She’d hand over the ability to hear a corpse’s voice in her head to him any day of the week.

            Still, based on his diaries....he had good reason. She couldn’t help but pity him. She couldn’t imagine losing everyone in the Brotherhood, not to mention the psychological torture the Night Mother was putting him through.

           Honestly, she was fond of the jester. Something in his eyes seemed....friendly, in its way. He could be funny, and even kind of endearing.

Astrid had ordered her to kill. But she wasn’t sure if she could.

           Shadowmere was a good horse. He seemed to be almost psychically connected to her. It was never a battle to get him where she wanted him to go, unlike every other horse she had ridden. He turned with the slightest nudge.

           “You’re sure you don’t want to ride?” she said to Marcurio.

           “I told you, I don’t like horses. Especially not horses with glowing red eyes that look like they crawled right out of my nightmares.” The Imperial was out of breath, trotting to keep pace with her.

        _Heh. Nightmares. Mares. Horses._  Taiya didn’t point out the unintentional sort-of pun, it would have earned her one of Marcurio’s patented eye rolls. “Your loss. Where did she say it was again?”

           “I think it was just here.” He pointed to a ledge of rocks. “Probably have to go around. I don’t think the jump’s good for that horse.”

           It required some careful skirting of the town’s edge, but she found a pathway to it. Suddenly she noticed a short trail of blood leading directly to her destination. But whose was it?

           She pulled up in front of the Dawnstar Black Door…and saw Arnbjorn, clutching his stomach and sitting in a pool of his own blood.

           She felt her heart in her throat and leapt off Shadowmere. “Arnbjorn.”

           He looked up, slightly startled. “What are you doing here?” he growled, grunting with pain.

           “Glad to see you too.” She shot, looking over his body to find out how bad the damage really was. “Astrid sent me.”

           “Well, now. Wasn’t that kind of her.”

           She rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you just put a sign around your neck that says ‘I don’t like you’? It’ll save us both time. What happened?”

        Almost in spite of himself, he chuckled. “The little Skeever got the jump on me. He’s better with that butter knife that he looks. Hate to say it, but he got me good.” He suddenly doubled up, clutching his stomach.

           She couldn’t just leave him like this, but the healing spell only worked on the caster. Wait…there was that new spell she had just bought, Healing Hands. She hadn’t had time to learn it yet, but the book was in her satchel. Pulling it out, she flipped through the pages. “Where’d Cicero go?”

         “In there.” He said, keeping his eyes on the book with curiosity and more than a hint of distrust. He was ever the Nord. She was tempted to wave it in front of his face while making a ghost noise, but decided to resist the urge. He thought she was immature enough as it was. “I would’ve followed him but I don’t know the passphrase.”

           “It’s alright, I do.” Got it. The book dissolved into magic energy in her hands, and she focused on summoning the spell. Almost immediately her hand lit up with a warm yellow glow. “Hold still.”

           He drew back. “What are you-“

           “No complaining.” Gently, she drew his arm away from the wound. “This’ll help.” She held her hand in close, and the light swirled around his abdomen. Immediately he let out a growl and jerked away. “I told you, hold still!” She impatiently took his hand and held it to the ground with her free palm, as well as her knee. “It’s a healing spell.”

           Glaring at her, he set his teeth while she started the spell. He grunted again, loudly, but suddenly sighed in relief. “Hey, that feels…good!”

           She rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Now what do we say?”

           Suddenly they made eye contact, and for the first time since they had met, there wasn’t a hint of dislike or mocking in his eyes. They were stunned and little bit…what was that? So hard to read. She felt very warm and strange inside. Why was he staring at her like he’d never seen her before?

           _You’re staring back, Tai._ She suddenly became aware that she was still pinning his hand to the ground. Quickly she let it go and darted her eyes away. A tingly sensation was traveling up and down her body. Was this an after-effect of the spell?

           “…Thanks.”

           “What?” she looked at him again, realized he was still staring, and turned away quickly.

           He blinked a few times and seemed to come into himself. “Thanks.”

           She raised an eyebrow and smirked slightly. “I’m sorry, could you say that again?”     

           “Forget it. That’s the only time you’re ever gonna hear it from me, ham hock.” He stood up. He was still hurting, she could tell, but with any luck he would make it back to the Sanctuary. “I’m headed home. Little tip: I know I wounded him. You should just be able to follow the blood.”

           “Do you-” she hesitated. “Do you want to take Shadowmere? I don’t really need him, and…”

           “I don’t like horses.” _Is this just a thing with all men in Skyrim? Horse fear?_ “I’ll make it back on my own. Do me a favor,” he smiled slightly, a strange expression for him, but not necessarily unpleasant. “Kill that jester twice, just to be sure.”

           Taiya smiled. “I’m still working on a particularly nasty method. Maybe he can be my first test subject.”

           He was off a minute later. Taiya realized he was still barefoot, and wondered how he stood the cold.

           “I saw that.”

           She jerked her head around to see Marcurio standing with folded arms and a cocky smile. “What?”

           “You like him, don’t you?”

           “Dog boy?” she snorted. “Fat chance. For one thing, he is easily the most annoying creature on Nirn.”

           “I take that as a personal insult. _I_ am the most annoying creature on Nirn.”

           She smiled. “Well, he’s a runner-up, that’s for certain. Besides, I’d like to point out the tiny but oh-so-important detail that he is more than a little _married_. To my _boss_.”

           His grin only widened, and he rolled his eyes. “Since when has that ever interfered with falling in love? Seriously, read a book sometime.”

         A joke. She read twelve books to his one, and they both knew it. But the way he was grinning knowingly at her was making her even more uncomfortable than she already was. Under no circumstances could she let him know that, though. “Whatever. Look, are you coming or not?”     

           “Is it going to let me?” he said, glancing at the Black Door. “The other Sanctuary won’t.”          

           “It would if you’d just let me talk to Astrid about getting you an initiation.” She said. “In any case, there’s no current Speaker down there. It should recognize you as a Brother in that armor.” She indicated the Shrouded Armor she had given him, favoring her Shrouded Robes instead.

           “I told you, I’m in enough hot water as it is just traveling with you. I don’t need to add ‘assassin’ to my list of reasons why guards hate me.”

           “Right.” She smiled. “Annoying bastard and world-class smartass is more than enough to make up your resume.”

           He bowed dramatically. “I accept your praise with much gratitude.”

           “Let’s go find ourselves a jester.” She said, lighting up her hand with flames and drawing her Bound Sword with the other.

           “You want to call your ghost friend?”

           “Lucien?” she shook her head. “Nah. I prefer to keep him for the bigger kills. It makes him feel valued.”

           “Can’t say I’m sorry.” He shook his head and muttered. “If I had to hear about the treachery of Matthieu Bellamont one more time…”

           “For the record, it was the treachery of Cheydinhal. It was the _tale_ of Matthieu Bellamont.” She turned to the door.

           “ _What is life’s greatest illusion?”_ it asked.

“Innocence, my brother.” She said.

“ _Welcome home._ ” The door swung open to reveal a dark passageway.

           “See, the very fact that you can correct me about that is proof that we have heard that story one too many-“ she cut him off with a finger to his lips.

           “Shush.” She said. “We’re tracking down a crazy master assassin in a dark, abandoned den of murderers.”

That shut him up. Although she could’ve sworn she heard him muttering “…should’ve known when she hired me…every other week…”

           Grinning, with curiosity and excitement and fear burning as bright within her as the flames in her hand, she set off into the shadows. But she couldn’t shake the image of Arnbjorn’s gaze out of her head. Over and over again, she replayed the scene as she and Marcurio hacked, slashed, and blasted their way through the spirits of Brothers and Sisters long past. Cicero’s voice taunted them from far off, although she could tell from the sound that there was strain in it.

           She wasn’t sure why, but for some reason Arnbjorn’s face was standing out in vivid detail. The strong jaw. The faded scars dotted here and there. His brown eyes, usually so scornful and teasing. His white-blonde hair that lay every which way on his head, often pulled back in a ponytail when he was working the forge. His beard, somewhere between scruffy and dignified. Offhandedly, she began to wonder what that beard would feel like against her cheek…

           _What the hell am I doing?_ She suddenly thought forcefully. But she couldn’t help it: willfully, her mind envisioned his face inches from hers, that strange light returned to his eyes. A soft smile played across his face, and he leaned in, breath warm on her cheek-

           “Tai!” Marcurio yelled. His lightning arced inches from her face, and a sudden puff told her that he had just taken out an enemy inches from her head. “Care to focus?” He seethed, panic still lighting up his eyes.

           “Sorry, sorry!” she yelled vaguely. . She whipped the Bound Sword through the air, slicing through the ectoplasm like a knife through butter-

           Unbidden an image from a few months ago popped into her (apparently idiotic) subconscious. Arnbjorn was bent over the forge. The flames were intensely hot, and he had pulled off the top half of his armor, leaving his chest bare. Despicable as he was to her, she couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the crisscrossing pattern of a thousand scars across his back and front. Taiya had wondered where they had all come from, the separate instances that had birthed them.

           The Nord had caught her staring, and his eyes rolled back in his skull. “See something you like, tidbit?” he had said acidly. “Or do I guess accurately when I say you’ve never seen a bare chest before?” Catching his meaning, she had scowled and stormed off, blush staining her gray cheeks.

           Only in this version, her mind suddenly changed his sneer to a smile, his crossed arms to open, inviting ones-

           _And Astrid walking down a moment later to bury her knife in your back._ Her more realistic side piped in. _But not before he pushed you off himself and threw you into the pool._

           She poured her frustration with her own fantasies into her weapons, torching and slashing everything blue that moved.

           _Arnbjorn? Really?_ She sneered at her romantic side. _Let me list all the reasons why there is no way in the Void that would ever work. He’s married. He’s not interested. He’s stubborn. He’s irritating. He hates me. He’s dedicated. He’s strong. He’s gorgeous. He’s-damn it! Let me start over-_

_Ah ah ah,_ her inner romantic tutted. _What was that? Dedicated? Strong? And gorgeous. My my._

_Shut up._

It is a sign of madness, she suddenly thought, when I start having arguments with myself.

           At that moment, her attention suddenly became arrested by an unexpected resident: a  troll. Funny how that demands your attention. After exchanging a customary look with Marcurio of _oh-my-shit-how-do-we-get-into-these-situations_ , they went after it with fire spells, darting in and out of its grasp.

           By the time the fight was done, attraction had sunk its teeth deep into her. By the time she arrived at Cicero’s door, it had developed into a crush.

           And by the time she had come back home and listened to a stumbled-through, awkward, hurried thank you from him-

           Well, she was long gone, head-over-heels, totally, irretrievably in love.

           So probably not a side effect of the spell, all things considered.


	3. Rejoice Despite the Fact This World Will Tear You To Shreds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The origin of all my Astrid apologetics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE ANGST HON. I WAS SO DEEP IN IT. Also, yeah, if you haven't picked up on it, Taiya's not exactly a willing Listener. Even prior to the Purge she didn't like being singled out.

Taiya had been drunk only one time in her life. After two drinks, she had passed out, much to the amusement of Marcurio. To avoid further mockery she had sworn off alcohol.  But even though it had only been once, even though it was so long ago, she could still remember how it had felt waking up. The way the whole world for a moment refused to take shape, only a nameless swirl of sounds, sights, smells, tastes. The pounding of her head. The pain that rushed on you almost instantaneously.

That was how it felt to be awoken from the Night Mother’s sleep.

Her brain felt sluggish and slow, and she thought she heard voices, but couldn’t understand what they were saying. The world was swimming before her, and her head felt like it was going to be ripped in two.

Suddenly, it all became clear. With a jolt, she realized the Night Mother’s body was directly in front of her, though thankfully silent right now. The voices began to become audible and understandable.

“You’re sure she’s back here?” One was saying. Nazir? He’d made it! And from the sound of it, he wasn’t alone.

“Positive.” A high-pitched voice. Babette. She should’ve figured the vampire would’ve survived. “Can’t you go any faster?”

A scraping noise, and grunting. “I’m trying, you infernal wench. If you’d just help me…”

“I’m not really built for manual labor. Come on, you’re almost there.”

More scraping, more grunting. Wreckage seemed to have fallen in front of the coffin. Taiya pushed a bit against the door, but it remained firmly shut. A claustrophobic feeling was beginning to press around her, and she was desperate to leave, to get away from the ghastly corpse, desperate to see if anyone else had made it out of this nightmare.

“ _Find Astrid._ ” The Night Mother said in that horrible gasping voice that Taiya was oh so privileged to hear.

_I’m done listening to you._

“ _Find Astrid._ ” She insisted.

Suddenly the doors gave way when she least expected it and she tumbled out onto the floor. The room spun before her and the acrid stench of smoke and burned flesh overwhelmed her, sending her mind reeling as she staggered to her feet.

“Easy! Easy.” Nazir said, grasping her shoulders and steering her over to nearby rock. “You were in there a long time, my friend.”

“ _Find Astrid_.”

“Shut up!” she screamed. Nazir started back, confused.

Taiya put her head in her hands. “Sorry. Not you. Her.”

“What is She saying?” Babette asked.

“Doesn’t matter.” She said through gritted teeth. She tried to push herself back up, but her unsteady feet gave way beneath her and she pitched forward. Only Nazir’s honed reflexes stopped her from hitting the ground.

“Relax, Listener.” He said, placing her once again on her faux chair. “You need to recover a bit.”

“There’s no time.” She shook her head. “We need to get out of here. Make a plan, maybe take a little revenge.” She swiveled her head around a bit, but her vision was still a little bit shaky. “Where are the others?”

No response.

Taiya looked them square in the eye, but they avoided her gaze. “Nazir? Where are they?”

No response.

“Where are the others?” Her voice cracked, and she was fighting a losing battle with the hot swirl of tears threatening to bubble over.

Babette was the first to speak. Perhaps three hundred years had hardened her to this kind of thing. “There are no others. We’re the only ones that made it.”

No. No, it couldn’t be true. “No.” she said softly under her breath. Gabriella, Festus, of course she had known they were dead. But everyone else…”Veezara? Astrid? Lis?” she looked pleadingly back and forth between them “A-Arnbjorn?”

But as she looked in their eyes, she saw the truth, the truth that deep down, she had known since she saw Festus pinned to the tree.

They were all gone.

Deep down, she knew that she should’ve waited to cry. She was the Listener. A leader. She had to be strong for her Family. Lead by example, be a pillar on which they could lean.

But it’s hard to be a pillar when the building is ripped from under you.

She cried. Or at least, the books would’ve described it as crying. There were no words she knew of that could’ve described what it really was. The animal sounds that ripped out of her throat, incomprehensible, loud, and so full of agony. Her eyes were crazed and betrayed, tears pouring out of them. Hysterically, she threw herself to the ground, tearing at her hair and screaming.

Their faces swam before her, scattered images with no pattern, the corners of the memory splattered with red.

Festus, huddled over his alchemy table, grumbling to himself.

Veezara, hacking and slashing the training dummy with such efficient deadliness, smiling at her when she called out to him. “Sister.”

Gabriella, sitting in her usual spot, watching Lis scurry in her den. Laughing, teasing her about coming to sit with her, knowing full well she wouldn’t.

Astrid, at a table with plans beneath her, describing details of a job.

Arnbjorn, bent over his grindstone, growling at the slightest interruption. This only provoked further interruption, especially as of late.

Irretrievable. Irreparable.

Unreal.

Taiya didn’t know how long she wept. It could’ve been hours. It could’ve been moments.

It could’ve been days.

But when she looked up, they still stood there. Babette was full-on weeping, looking more like a child than ever before. Nazir did not cry, fists clenched, but his eyes were damp.

“Where…where do we go from here?” Nazir said.

“Why the hell are you asking me?” she sobbed. “I’m-I’m the one…who got us into all this mess. If I hadn’t told Astrid…about Amound, they’d all be-“

But she was silenced when Babette drew her into an embrace. The vampire’s pale skin was cool to the touch, but still very soft. Her tears streamed into Taiya’s hair, but the girl’s voice was steady. “Don’t. It’s not your fault, Tai.” Babette looked over her shoulder at the Redguard, drilling him with an intense gaze.

“She’s right.” He said, kneeling beside her. “If anything….well, far be it from me to soil Astrid’s memory, but in the end, she made her choice. She was the one who decided to take the contract.”

“If anyone’s to blame, it’s that traitor.” Babette said. “Who could’ve done this? We were Family!”

Taiya shook her head. She thought through everyone, but in the end… “We don’t think about that.” She insisted. “They need to live on in our minds…like they were. I refuse to believe any of them…” she choked on the last word. Instead, she buried herself in Babette’s shoulder, felt comfort as Nazir awkwardly placed his arm around her. For a long time, they just sat there in silence. Words were pointless: there was nothing to be said.

_“Find Astrid”_

For a moment Taiya felt like running up to the corpse and tossing her into the pool, Cicero be damned. But suddenly the words made connections in her mind.

“Astrid.” She breathed.

“What?”

“Astrid!” she said, jumping to her feet. “Astrid! The Night Mother is telling me to find Astrid!”

Nazir shook his head. “Taiya, almost all of these corpses are burnt beyond recognition. Even if we looked, I doubt we would know if we saw her.”

“That’s the point!” Taiya said, half-laughing with a crazed sort of joy. “Why would the Night Mother give me an impossible task? If we can’t find her among the dead-“

“Then she can only be found among the living!” Babette said, getting to her feet. Her eyes were still tearful, but fresh hope made them bright again. “Where is she?”

Taiya listened hard, but the Night Mother was silent. _Just when I actually_ want _Her to speak_ ….but suddenly she felt like some guiding hand was pushing at her back. It turned her around and then pushed her forward.

Without pausing for an explanation, she ran off in the direction. Every time she was presented with a choice about which way to turn, the hand pressed against her, nudging her wherever she needed to go. Her feet moved swiftly, lightly, and she could hear Nazir and Babette running after her but she didn’t pause, her heart was pounding and she had never moved so fast. She never thought she would be so happy to find Astrid

Finally, she found herself in front of Astrid (and Arnbjorn, she thought with a slight pang)’s room. Most of the left side had collapsed, crushing the bed and bookshelf, but there was just enough room…she slipped through the gap, thankful for once in her life that she was so skinny.

As she absorbed the sight in front of her, she felt like her heart stopped.

A haphazard, uneven ring of candles lit up what was left of the room. A dagger was laid out, as well as some charred Nightshade and the remains of a book. 

The Black Sacrament, or at least an attempt at it.

And in the center of the ring of fire was Astrid.

But it was not the Astrid she had always known. One could hardly see the beautiful woman whose acidic green eyes and sultry voice had been the downfall of so many. Whose light feet and cleverness made her the master assassin she was. Who had haunted many of Taiya’s dreams, with the conflicting desires of wanting to be good to her Sister and at the same time wanting everything she had.

The lump of flesh that was in the center of the ring was only identifiable as Astrid by her distinctive green eyes. Her clothes were in pure tatters; she was all but naked. Her skin, so soft and ivory and lovely, looked like a charred Skeever roasted on a spit, sickening shades of orange, red, and black that human flesh should never turn. Her beautiful hair, charred to the side of her head. Her limbs were little more than useless charred sticks, and she was spread-eagled on the floor. Her breath came in raspy pants, and every exhale was punctuated by a soft groan of pain.

“You’re….here….” she said. “Praise…Sithis…”

“Shh.” Taiya said in a weak voice. Her brain was working on autopilot, and she crawled closer to the husk of a Speaker. “I-it’s okay. I’m....I’m here.” Suddenly her mind scrambled to regain itself. _Healing Hands, Healing Hands, come on, girl!_ She started the spell, pulling her hands over Astrid’s body. “I’ll take care of this. Try not to talk.”

“No!” summoning what must have been her last modicum of strength, she swatted away Taiya’s hand. The Dunmer couldn’t help it. She winced. The burnt flesh felt revolting. “Have to….listen. Not much time….Please, Taiya.”

“Okay.” Taiya said softly, leaning down to make it easier. “What is it. What do you need to say?”

“I was a….fool.” she gasped. “A fool….for trying to reject the Night Mother. The…the Old Ways….the Tenets have guided…the Dark Brotherhood…forever. I was a fool…to try and stop it. To stop…you.”

“It’s…its okay.” Taiya said, blinking back tears. Strange. She had hated Astrid for a long time now, but she couldn’t stand to see her in this much agony. “It’ll be okay, Astrid. All is forgiven.”

“No it’s not…” Astrid chuckled in a pained way. “There’s still something…you have to do.”

“What?”

“Don’t you….see? I…am the Black Sacrament. You have to….kill….me!”


	4. Rejoice Although this World Will Devastate You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Complicated Female Relationships 101

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one touch me
> 
> Also another quote because damn if 14 year old me couldn't pick
> 
> "Her look and voice now were such that no woman could mistake. 
> 
> ‘What?’ I cried. ‘Is it possible you’re jealous?’
> 
> She said nothing. I sprang to my feet and pulled aside my veil. ‘Look, look you fool!’ I cried. ‘Are you jealous of this?’ 
> 
> She started back from me, gazing, so that for a moment I wondered if my face were a terror to her. For the first time that prim mouth of hers twitched. The tears began to gather in her eyes. ‘Oh,’ she gasped. ‘Oh. I never knew…you also…?’ 
> 
> ‘What?’ 
> 
> ‘You loved him. You’ve suffered, too. We both...’ She was weeping; and I. Next moment we were in each other’s arms."
> 
> -C.S Lewis, Till We Have Faces

 

Taiya’s eyes widened, and she backed away from Astrid. “No. No. Astrid, you may have been against the Night Mother, but that doesn’t make your death justified.”

           Astrid laughed raspily. “You still don’t get it…do you?” Her voice was steadier now, her control over the pain growing. “Haven’t you figured it out?”

           “Figured what out?!” she asked, exasperated.

           “I was the one…who sold you out!” Astrid said. Tears sprang to her eyes and pooled down her burnt face.

           The whole world dimmed. Taiya felt like she was fading in and out of reality. “No…” she breathed. Astrid…the traitor? But “why?” she said, tears welling up again involuntarily.  “Why would you-“

           “I went to Maro.” She said, voice choked with sadness. “Told him…that if he would leave the…Family alone, then he could have…you. I didn’t think…I didn’t dream he would…” she blinked hard a few times, and shook her head infinitesimally. “No…I should’ve known. But I didn’t…I hated Her. The Night Mother. I hated…that damned Jester. And I hated…you.”

           In that moment, Taiya looked in her eyes and realized that Astrid had seen it all. The way Taiya had become closer to Arnbjorn since Cicero went berserk. The way Taiya would watch him constantly. The way she had come up with excuses to talk to him. That she would occasionally drop deathbell (her signature plant, she always left one bloom of it on her victims) onto his workbench. Whether or not Arnbjorn had truly understood it, she would never know, but the flowers were always gone by the time she came back. He had never acknowledged it, but…had she been imagining those smiles, that slight affection he seemed to have adopted? Certainly he had never stopped to watch her train before Dawnstar, never given her any advice (laden with sarcastic comments as it was, “For Sithis’ sake, where’d you learn to use an axe?”). Never had he touched her elbow when he wanted to get her attention before then. And yet he had done so.

           And in that moment, she saw in Astrid’s eyes that she knew Taiya loved her husband more than she had ever loved any man. And in that moment, she saw that while Arnbjorn may not have noticed, Astrid had, and she had felt jealousy, hard and cold and driving.

           “You have to…kill me.” Astrid said softly.

           “No.” she said, shaking her head with blank staring eyes.

           “You…must.”

           “No!” she jumped to her feet, tears streaming down her cheeks. “No! I can’t-Astrid, you can’t do this to me! To the Family!”

           “This is…a contract-“

           “To hell with the contracts!” she screamed, full on sobbing now. “To hell with the Night Mother, with all of it! I can’t do this, Astrid! You can’t force me to kill you!”

           “ You really loved him, didn’t you?”

           She felt cold.

“.....yes...” She whispered. What was the point in lying? “Yes, I loved him. More than I ever thought I could love anything....”

           “I did too.” With an agonized motion, Astrid beckoned with a few fingers, unable to lift her hand and do it properly. Not sure what else to do, Taiya automatically obeyed, coming forward and taking Astrid’s charred hand. “I did too. That’s why…you have to do this. I got him killed. This is the only way to… atone for it.”

           “He…he wouldn’t want this.” Taiya gasped between sobs. “He wouldn’t let me kill you. He loved you.”

           “Pure love is blind.” The Speaker said gently. “Sometimes only hatred lets us see others as they really are. And you have hated me. I've hated you too.” She smiled. “That’s how Sisterhood works sometimes. We hate each other so much....we end up loving one another.”

           “Astrid, please,  _please_ don’t order me to do this.”

           “I’m going to die anyway.” She said calmly. “Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor. And there’s something I want to try…..Please, Taiya. For everyone. Please.”

           She could hardly see through her tears, but she nodded, feeling agony wrack through her body with every bob of her head.

           “Good girl.” Astrid smiled sadly, using the language she had taken whenever Taiya returned a complete contract. “My blade is just over there. Please…use that…”

           Hardly knowing what she was doing, she looked beside Astrid’s almost-corpse and saw the dark sword, crackling red with magical energy. She took the hilt between her hands, and lifted it, hovering it above just the right spot. Her hands trembled, and she could hardly see through the veil of tears. “Now?” she choked.

           “Give me…a moment…” she breathed, closing her eyes. “Want to…try something…”

           Taiya waited. It felt like forever, but finally Astrid opened her eyes. “Now.”

           She sobbed loudly, but drove the blow.

           She aimed for the heart.

 Immediately a burst of blood arced into the air, splattering Taiya’s gray skin with bright red.

           “Thank…you.” Astrid grunted through a gurgle of blood. “Take…care of him….for me…” And with a final shuddering gasp, the Speaker passed into the Void. Numbly, Taiya removed the sword, dropping it to her side with a clatter.


	5. Rejoice, the Bed You Sleep in is Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where the canon train really rides off the rails. Welcome back, Werewolf Hobgoblin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> even as an emo teen I didn't like tragic endings to love stories, what can I say. Also, its probably ooc for Sithis, but also shut up, if Lucien gets to come back as a ghost then I get to do what I want. Also no matter what Arnbjorn loves his wife and even my romance addled brain refused to write myself out of that.

She didn’t know how long she was there, but the weeping slowly began to subside. 

Not because it didn’t hurt, but because she was running out of tears.

“Astrid…” Nazir’s soft voice breathed behind her. “I never would’ve believed it…”

Taiya sat upright. “Nazir…she…she asked me to-“

He held up his hand in a pacifying gesture. “I heard everything.” He shook his head sadly, placing his hands on his hips. “A sad fate. Despite everything…well, I can’t hate her. Not something I say very often.”

Taiya wiped at her eyes. Her heart still ached with sadness, but now was the time to move. “Where do we go from here?”

He smiled grimly. “I think that’s up to you.”

“I-“

“Don’t try and shirk your responsibilities, my dear Listener.” He said kindly. “Astrid clearly indicated that you were to take up the mantle.”

Taiya was speechless. Her lead the Brotherhood? Leadership…it had never really been her niche. Even when they offered her the job of Arch-Mage she had passed it off to Tolfdir as soon as possible. She didn’t have the patience or the focus she knew running anything required.

But somehow she knew this would be different. This wouldn’t be business. It would be Family. She would do what Astrid had always tried to do. Lead her Family, protect them, keep them safe. In the end, it was what she had always been doing anyways. This time it just meant her voice was better heard.

“We need to leave.” She said, rising to her feet. Babette waited just outside the door, with teary eyes but a determined expression. Taiya looked sadly at the crumbled remains of her home. “We can’t stay here much longer.”

“But where would we go?” Babette asked.

Taiya thought for a moment, and the answer appeared to her. “The Dawnstar Sanctuary.”

“Of course…” Nazir said. “But you’re certain it unoccupied?”

“Positive. I killed everything living inside.” _Aside from a certain Fool of Hearts_ she thought. _But if he has any sense he’ll be out of the country, Night Mother or no._

Nazir nodded. “I’ll get some tools, and we can move the Night Mother’s coffin.”

“Alright.” She said. “I’ll start making arrangement for Babette, maybe get a horse for you. We can leave in a few hours.” She paused for a second. “But we’re going to have a time of it getting settled. The Sanctuary’s habitable, but only just.”

“I think I have an idea.” Babette said. “Delvin Mallory.  We can hire him to get the Sanctuary furnished. He’s definitely got the contacts to get it done.”

Taiya nodded. “Perfect. I’ll head for Riften as soon as we get the Night Mother situated.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Nazir said, his eyes twinkling.

She thought for a minute. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Something such as a certain Emperor still walking around with a beating heart?”

Taiya’s eyes widened. “Are you…Nazir, that contract’s the whole reason-!”

“Regardless,” he cut across smoothly. “It’s a contract. The ancient ways dictate that as long as there is one Family member that still draws breath, we fulfill any and all contracts given to us. Not to mention Maro assumes we are dead. Now is the perfect time to strike, while we have the element of surprise.”

Taiya looked at the destruction around her. The memory of her attempt the other night rushed back in vivid detail: the breathless anticipation as she struggled to play the role of the Gourmet (the orc had been too easy to ambush), the thrill of triumph and adrenaline as he had tasted his last meal and collapsed into his plate. The sinking feeling of fear and defeat as Maro stared sneering down at her, eyes dancing with smug victory. Could she do it again? Could she kill the Emperor?

_Yes._ She thought, fists clenching. _I could. Oh, I could. So, so easily. This is his fault: him and his damned captain of the guard. Maybe there’s something in the Stormcloak’s cause after all…_

“I’ll do it.” She said. “Besides. Where the Emperor is, so is Maro.” She lit up her hand with flames. “It’s time for him to become reunited with his dear Gaius.”

“That’s my girl.” Nazir said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Last I heard, Motierre was in the Bannered Mare, in Whiterun. He should have some idea about Titus Mede’s whereabouts.”

“I’ll leave in a bit. Just…” she paused, glancing down the passageway to the remains of the Sanctuary. “Give me a minute?”

He nodded. “Of course.” Gesturing to Babette, he led the vampire into the last remains of the main hall.

Taiya withdrew into Astrid’s room, sitting in a lotus position beside Astrid’s corpse. _This is it. The Last Remembrance. After this, you aren’t allowed to think about it. Not until the job is done._

This was the way she operated, the way she _had_ to operate if she was ever going to keep moving. She allowed herself to dwell on painful memories only for brief periods of time, and then compartmentalized it until such a time as she could dwell on it at her…well, not leisure or convenience, but at a time when she could at least cry alone. Mourning would come, but for now, it was time to box up those memories and push them back into her subconscious..

Lis. The spider scurried at a distance from her, the familiar shudder of disdain running down her spine. _I always hated spiders, but you brought joy to my Sisters. Thank you, and may your soul find rest in Namira’s Country._

Festus Krex, wizened and curmudgeonly, but with a warm glow in his eyes when he spoke of magic. “What, you think me too old, too feeble?” Despite his pretenses of being the grumpy old uncle, Taiya had cherished a soft spot for him. He was her most respected teacher of Destruction magic. With fondness, she fingered the Nightweaver’s Band he had given to her. _Thank you old friend. You took a novice under your wing and made her an enchantress. May your fires burn bright in the Void, and even Julianos will look on your magic with envy._

Gabriella, mysterious, kind, and sardonically funny. The prophetess was the closest thing to home in Morrowind Taiya still had. “You certainly have a strange energy about you. I look forward to watching your progress.” _Dear Sister. You served the Dread Lord perhaps better than any of us. I know you will be honored in the Void, but I will miss you beside me._

Veezara, welcoming, but professional always. In her early days she had found his sense of self-assurance so comforting, and he always had time for his little Sister. “It was good, to do battle by your side.” _Thank you. It sounds pathetic, I know, but I don’t even have the words to describe how much I am indebted to you. So again, thank you, brother dear._

Astrid. Taiya cracked open her red eyes to look at the corpse, and then closed them again, remembering Astrid healthy, vital, beautiful, well. _My gods, it’s a complicated thing to have a sister. Astrid. I don’t know where to begin. I hated you so much. You made no secret of your displeasure with me, singled me out from and made me feel....isolated sometimes. But you protected our Family. You sought to make sure I was prepared for every contract. And I loved you._

Finally, it came. The one she had been long dreading.

Arnbjorn.

_So much left unsaid._ She thought bitterly. _So much time wasted. I loved you. Love, Arnbjorn, with a capital everything. The true irony of it is that one of the first things you said to me about yourself was that you loved Astrid. I knew right off the bat you were taken. You were gruff, irritating, stubborn, emotionally constipated, and I_ still _love you._ She turned over Astrid’s final words in her mind. _How is it that two women so different could love you so much? We like it when you take care of us. We like that you can make us laugh against our will, even when the joke is on us, you sharp-tongued bastard. We crave your eyes on us, watching us to guard us and care for us._

Something caught in the back of her mind. A statement, playing over and over again. “Take…care of him…for me.”

Take care of… _him_? Not them, but him? At the time, she had assumed she meant Nazir. But it seemed odd she would single out the Redguard like that, and not make any reference to Babette. It was possible that she was referring to giving Arnbjorn a proper burial. But she had to know that Arnbjorn’s body was likely burnt beyond recognition. And what was that thing she had spoken about trying…?

She was still putting the pieces together when she felt it: a disturbance of magical energy so great any mage within a three mile radius was probably feeling the aftershocks. She heard the outcries of disbelief and saw the glow of warm yellow light radiating from the Sanctuary, but she was unable to go inspect. Her sensitivity to magicka was making her senses go haywire, and she started dry-heaving, feeling some of her energy being sucked away. Her neurons were firing at a million miles an hour. _No, that’s impossible. She couldn’t do that…could she_?

Suddenly it all ceased. Silence fell, and she felt the energy die.

And a roar split the cavern.

Taiya was paralyzed, unable to leave the room, immobilized by fear and shock. Still, her sharp elven ears pricked up and heard everything.

After a few moments of growls and outcries from Nazir and Babette, she heard heavy panting and then a strange, cracking noise. She imagined fur melting to flesh, a snout to a face, bestial limbs to powerful human ones.

“Where…is….Astrid?!”

“What the hell-“

“No, Nazir! WHERE IN THE VOID IS MY WIFE?!”

“Upstairs!” Babette squeaked, cowed by the rage in his voice. “But-“

He didn’t pause to listen. Thundering footsteps. Taiya struggled to her feet, looked up….

And was face to face with a resurrected Arnbjorn.

The same magic that awoke him had for the most part healed him. A few burn scars, a few cuts, but he was okay. Somehow his armor was intact: It must have stretched underneath him. His brown eyes were blazing with fear, anger, and shock as he registered the scene before him, and he looked even more disheveled than usual.

Taiya was frozen in place. The tears did start anew, but silence alone gripped her tongue. _You’re here._ Echoed through her mind. _By Sithis, she did it. You’re alive_. But her mouth once again settled into its role of jail guard, and nothing came out but sobbing. Dazedly, her eyes traced every inch of him, the muscled body, the strong arms, the white-blond hair lying in a tangle. Like she was affirming that it was actually him.

“What…I….” his voice was hollow, dead. He walked past her, as if in a trance. His eyes drank in the remains of his wife, unblinking and disbelieving. “Astrid….”

He fell silent, standing as still as a statue.

Taiya didn’t know what to say. How could she even begin to make him understand, to explain. “Arnbjorn, I-“

A confused moment. She was suddenly pinned to the wall, throat jammed by his forearm. She couldn’t breathe. His eyes blazed with fury, and the other hand was raised up to strike her. “What the hell did you do?!” he roared. “TRAITOR!”

“no…” she gasped, struggling for air with a crushed windpipe. “please, let me-“

“Start talking, elf!” he said, spitting every syllable like a curse. “And you’d better pray to Sithis I like what you have to say!”

“Maro…..Astrid….” she gagged. Arnbjorn realized her restriction, and pulled away his arm. She sunk against the wall to sit, knees pulled in tight. She was still somewhat dazed, but the other half of her mind was racing. _Alive…alive…you’re alive….ohmygods, I have to tell him…._

“Talk.” He said, pulling her to her feet and wrapping his hand around the back of her throat. “And if you utter so much as one _syllable_ of a lie, I swear I’ll snap your neck.”

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to collect herself. Her foolish heart kept singing. _Alive….alive….alive._ “How much do you remember?”

He closed his eyes, trying to remember. “Everything up until my death.” He said. “Penitus Oculatus….they were everywhere, they…” his grip tightened, and his eyes opened again, hard with rage. “You sold us out!”

“No!” she exclaimed. “No, I swear!”

“Start at the contract, Tai.” Nazir said behind her. “Tell him everything.”

She looked at Arnbjorn for a long moment. Why was it, when he was threatening to kill her and she had to tell him that she had just murdered his wife, all her moronic soul wanted to do was kiss him? With a final shuddering sigh, she closed her eyes. “It was going perfectly. I passed as the Gourmet. I’d slipped the poison into the Potage, and the chef was dishing it up to the Emperor. He took a bite, and I thought it was all over…”

She told him everything, from the imposter’s death to Maro’s betrayal to her battle through the Sanctuary. His grip tightened threateningly when she told him that someone had sold them out, but not her. A confirming nod from Nazir and Babette, however, literally saved her neck. She stopped when she fell asleep in the Night Mother’s coffin, unwilling and almost unable to continue.

“Keep going.” He growled. “Obviously you woke up. What happened after?”

_No putting it off now._ She took a deep breath. _Here it goes. I’m about to lose him forever._ “When I woke up, the Night Mother told me to find Astrid. She had….” Taiya closed her eyes, fighting back the tears. “She used her own body as the Black Sacrament. She told me that she had sold me out to Maro to protect the Brotherhood, but he had betrayed her. She ordered me to kill her, I tried to-“

“LIAR!” he roared. For a moment she saw a glimpse of the wolf in his eyes, and she feared for her life. “LIAR!”

“I’m afraid it’s true, old friend.” Nazir said. “Babette and I were there for the confession.”

Arnbjorn looked utterly lost, the rage replaced by confused pain and betrayal. “She…she would never….”

“To save the Family?” Taiya said dully. “Yeah. She would. We all would.” A tear escaped the corner of her eye, and for some reason he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the saltwater drop. Mourning sickness, she knew. The mind would latch onto anything, anything to keep the focus off of the event. “Astrid regretted what she did, and used the last of her strength to order me to kill her.” Carefully, making obvious motions so he knew that she wasn’t trying to take him out, she lifted Astrid’s blade from her belt and proffered it to him. “She asked me to use this.”

Reverently, almost delicately, he took the sword by the hilt, lifting it up to examine it. “I forged this knife...” He said in a hollow voice. “Anniversary present....She called it the Blade of Woe...” Trance-like, he released her neck, using his now free hand to stroke the blade, drying blood still encrusting it. Taiya’s hand immediately fluttered to the back of her neck to massage it. His hand slipped, and the long knife clattered to the ground. Taiya bent to pick it up, but by that time he had turned to face Astrid again.

“I’m sorry.” She said, full on sobbing now. “I didn’t…I didn’t want to….”

“Get out.” He whispered in a strangled voice.

“Arnbjorn-“

“Get out!” He growled, whipping around and stepping menacingly towards her. “OUT!”

Her feet were frozen in place, but Nazir gripped her shoulder and steered her from the room. “Go.” He said. “Head out towards Whiterun. We’ll be in Dawnstar.”

“I-“

“You can’t do anything for him now, Listener.” The man looked grim. “Give him time. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything foolish.”

She felt powerless, looking with regret over his shoulder. “Thank you.” She said softly.

He nodded. “Now go. An angry werewolf isn’t something you want to stick around with.”

Taiya cast a last regretful look over Nazir’s shoulder. She caught a glimpse of Arnbjorn, on his hand and knees before his wife’s corpse. His shoulders were wracked with unrealized sobs.

Guilt and grief ran through her like a sharp knife. All she wanted to do was run to his side in that moment, to bury her head in his shoulder and mourn with him. For the lost. For the dead. For the liars. For a brief moment she almost convinced herself he would let her.

But something was broken. She could sense it in the air. There may come a time to repair it, but it wasn’t now. Instead, like the coward she was, she turned tail and dashed through the door, the cool night air embracing her like an old lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: I'm aware the Blade of Woe was an item from Oblivion, but given how different it looks I am very into the idea of Arnbjorn making his wife a sick knife and her naming it after the original bad bitch of knives.


End file.
